Bloodthirsty battle roars echoed throughout the cavern, sounding like a million rusty saws simultaneously cutting metal, shaking dust from the rock walls.
Even the bravest warriors couldn't help but tremble, their tactical helmet's soundproofing system completely unable to block the soul-piercing screams.
A Battle Sisters's hands trembled uncontrollably, her Bolter nearly slipping from her grasp.
The sound contained pure murderous intent, capable of directly assaulting mortal minds and stirring up the deepest fears within their hearts.
Several weaker-willed soldiers had already collapsed to the ground, hands clutched to their heads, groaning in pain.
On their tactical visors, life sign monitors showed their heart rates instantly skyrocketing into the danger zone, pupils dilated to their limits.
One of them even began violently banging his forehead against the ground, attempting to dispel the bloody hallucinations constantly flashing in his mind.
The battle situation rapidly deteriorated, and the exhausted warriors were forced into a continuous retreat.
Their formation was shattered, and the once tight network of fire was now reduced to sporadic counterattacks.
Everyone was fighting for survival, and the comms channel was filled with chaotic shouts and agonizing screams.
Ammunition was running low, armor was heavily damaged, but most terrifyingly, as the number of demons increased, the chaotic energy permeating the air was eroding their will.
Unseen whispers lingered in their ears, tempting them to embrace Chaos.
Gutierrez's Power Armor was damaged in multiple places; a grotesque gash tore open his left shoulder guard, and coolant sprayed from broken lines, evaporating into wisps of white mist on the scorching rock floor.
His rebreather mask had a crack, and each breath brought a spray of blood.
Three of 32's mechanical tentacles were broken, exposed wires crackling and occasionally spitting dangerous electrical arcs.
His mechanical eye flickered with an unstable red light, and his visual sensors were covered in cracks.
More than half of the Sisters of Battle had fallen, and the few remaining formed a final defensive circle back-to-back.
Their robes were already soaked with blood, and their silver-white armor was covered in claw marks and bullet holes, yet they still clutched their weapons tightly.
The Sister Superior's left arm hung limply, but her Bolt Pistol still fired precise bursts.
The air was thick with the smell of blood and the pungent odor of burning promethium; each breath was like inhaling searing blades.
The heavy smell of sulfur mixed with the putrid stench of entrails made even the toughest warriors gag.
The tactical mask filters had long been overloaded, yet they still couldn't completely purify the foul air.
Blood droplets and sweat condensed on everyone's masks, and warning messages flashing on tactical displays almost filled their entire field of vision: low ammo, decreasing armor integrity, life support system about to fail…
But these numbers no longer mattered.
In this purgatory of blood and fire, the only hope for survival was to hold out until reinforcements arrived, or to die gloriously.
Just as the defensive line was about to collapse, a not-so-dazzling blue-white psionic beacon suddenly lit up in a corner of the battlefield, its dazzling light piercing through the heavy dark clouds like the first ray of dawn.
Accompanying the flashing teleportation light, Mai Mai and Twilight, who were supposed to be in the Upperhive, along with another Inquisitor Craig and Storm Troopers, arrived at the Bottom Nest battlefield just in time via the teleportation array.
The timely arrival of reinforcements bought the defenders precious breathing room.
The newly arrived warriors immediately filled the gaps in the defensive line, blocking the demon's assault with a dense network of firepower.
This new strength was like a strong stimulant injected into a dying body, temporarily stabilizing the crumbling defensive line.
The reinforcements quickly deployed into battle formations; the mechanical sounds of Bolters reloading echoed one after another, bringing new hope to the desperate battlefield.
Seeing this, the initially retreating defenders' morale soared, and they quickly reorganized their formations, forming a crossfire with the reinforcements.
"For the Emperor!" The newly arrived Inquisitor Craig raised his Power Sword, its blade gleaming in the bloody mist.
His voice was loud and firm, like a heavy hammer striking each warrior's heart, dispelling their inner cowardice and fear.
The reinforcements he led charged into the enemy lines like a steel torrent, their intense firing making the roar of Bolters resound across the battlefield once more.
Each volley of Lasgun fire accurately tore apart several of the bloodhounds charging at the front, temporarily curbing the demon's momentum.
However, Tzanazte continued to summon reinforcements from the Warp; every second, new demons appeared from the blood mist.
The crimson portals twisted violently, viscous blood oozing from their edges, as if the entire Warp was boiling for this battle.
These newly appeared demons were noticeably stronger, and the marks of Chaos on them were more distinct.
Glowing runes were branded on their skin, and each step left burning footprints on the ground.
Most terrifyingly, they seemed to possess some tactical awareness, no longer blindly charging, but beginning to systematically outflank the human defensive line.
The battle remained a stalemate; the advantage brought by the reinforcements was gradually being offset by the unending tide of demons.
The previously stable front line began to waver again, and the warriors were forced to fight and retreat, forming several isolated defensive circles within the cavern.
The two Inquisitor Craigs briefly exchanged glances across the bloody battlefield; their identical Power Armor bore different battle scars.
They nodded in unspoken understanding—this simple gesture contained too much unsaid information: their assessment of the current battle situation and their determination to continue fighting.
But then both immediately plunged back into the fight, as if they had long known of each other's existence.
Their tacit cooperation quickly formed new firing points on the battlefield, buying time for other warriors to reorganize their defensive lines.
Their coordination was so skilled, it was as if they had fought side-by-side for years.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the battlefield, Ahriman was casting spells to counter Tzanazte's summoning.
His psychic staff traced complex runes in the air, each symbol shimmering with silver-blue light.
He intended to seal this space with magic, severing its connection to the Warp, and thereby cutting off Tzanazte's summoning.
But as the spell deepened, his brows furrowed tighter—the Chaos corruption here was even more severe than he had anticipated.
However, this did not stump Ahriman; as he cast his spell, the portals on the battlefield began to shrink.
It was just that, at some unknown point, a Thousand Sons Supreme Wizard wearing Ash Knights black and white Power Armor appeared beside Ahriman.
(The design uses the Archon as a base)
(Change to this staff)
The appearance of this mysterious newcomer went unnoticed by anyone, as if he had always been standing there.
"Very good, as prophesied, everything is proceeding according to plan," the Thousand Sons Supreme Wizard removed his helmet, revealing a face identical to Alex's, and said as he gazed at the battlefield.
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